


i'll take it all, babydoll (whatever's been weighing you down)

by acheybones



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe - College/University, Caretaking, Drunken Confessions, Eddie Kaspbrak and Stan Uris are Roommates, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Feminization, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mild Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pet Names, Protective Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier and Ben Hanscom are Roommates, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Underage Drinking, but nothing happens don't worry, it's a reddie fic of course it's friends to lovers, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26919829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheybones/pseuds/acheybones
Summary: It started off as a joke. He thinks. So, he lost a bet their freshman year of college. So, he and Stan borrowed skirts from Bev and performed a slightly intoxicated chair routine to a Rihanna song. So, maybe in his inebriated state, he might have thought he saw Richie bite his lower lip between his teeth when his knee-high socks slipped down.It was all a joke. Until it wasn't.+or, Eddie likes to feel pretty, but Richie doesn't need to know that.(title from "babydoll" by dominic fike)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 191
Collections: Bi Bi Bi. (And everything else), Reddie at its finest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> baby's first smut. but also not really. i just wanted to write soft Reddie instead of the 1000 other things in my WIP folder. hope you enjoy ❤️

It started off as a joke. He thinks. So, he lost a bet their freshman year of college. So, he and Stan borrowed skirts from Bev and performed a slightly intoxicated chair routine to a Rihanna song. So, maybe in his inebriated state, he might have thought he saw Richie bite his lower lip between his teeth when his knee-high socks slipped down. 

It was all a joke. Until it wasn’t.

_ Richie is the soberest between the three, and that in and of itself is an absolute phenomenon, so he volunteers to walk the two back to their apartment before meeting back up with Ben at his own. The walk from Mike and Bill’s apartment is a short one, but Eddie is apparently bound and determined to make it take all night. Stan is shuffling his own way, staying on the sidewalk for the most part with Richie only having to scruff his collar to keep him out of traffic twice. Eddie, on the other hand, is tucked closely into Richie’s side and his sneakers are hitting Richie’s more than the actual pavement. _

_ Richie tries not to think about how Eddie is still in Bev’s skirt, or how it’s sliding up Eddie’s thighs in an absolutely unfair way. _

_ “Here, Eds. You’re gonna freeze.” Richie lets go of Eddie long enough to pull his own flannel shirt off his shoulders. It leaves him in a short-sleeve shirt in the middle of September, but cold is not something he is even close to at the moment. Eddie is practically swallowed whole in the most adorable way by Richie’s shirt, because of course he is. God has favorites and Richie is not one of them. _

_ Stan only walks into one lamp when they make it inside, Richie having swiped his keys when they left. He coaxes Eddie down to the couch long enough to get Stan in his room and keep him from wandering outside. _

_ When he comes back out into the living room, Eddie has curled himself up against the back of the couch. A sweet smile on his face and his cheeks blushed the prettiest shade of pink Richie has ever seen. He's snuggled up in Richie's flannel like a blanket, inhaling the taller boy's scent on the shirt. _

_ "Eds, you okay?" Richie brushes Eddie's hair out of his face, and Eddie leans into his hand, placing a kiss to Richie's palm. Richie's heart feels like it's gonna drop out of his ass, so naturally, he makes a joke about it and hope Eddie doesn't notice how his cheeks are turning the same flush as Eddie's. _

_ "Yeah, you're wasted." _

_ "'ove you, Rich." Eddie is snuggling into his touch like a dog and Richie hates himself for wanting to hold Eddie when he's like this. _

_ "I love you too, pal." Richie pulls his hand away to stand at full height and tries not to let his heart ache at the whimper that Eddie lets out when he moves away. "Let's get you a glass of water and into bed, alright?" _

_ Eddie's eyes open at that, and his hand shoots out to wrap around Richie's wrist. _

_ "No! Don' go! Don' go! Richie's leavin' me." Eddie slurs his words but the hurt in them is apparent. So, Eddie's a little clingy when he's had too much to drink. Duly noted. He doesn't mean it, Richie can handle this. Richie drops back in front of Eddie, running his other hand up and down Eddie's arm that's holding his left like a vice. _

_ "Hey, easy Eds, shh. I'm not leaving you. Never going to leave you, alright? Why don't you come with me, yeah? Think you can walk to the kitchen?" Richie tries to keep his voice down, a soft and reassuring murmur to calm Eddie and avoid waking Stan. _

_ Eddie makes a face like he's thinking, and ultimately glives a sleepy nod, letting Richie pull him up from his spot on the couch. _

_ Richie pulls a glass from the cabinet, filling it from the filtered tap because Sonia made Eddie buy a filter as soon as he moved in. Richie doesn't think brain-eating amoeba's should be a concern for her. While he's getting Eddie's drink, he feels Eddie slink around him and wrap his arms around Richie's waist and place a kiss to the back of Richie's neck. _

_ It means nothing. It means nothing. It means nothing. _

_ "What'cha doing, Eddie?" Richie hopes Eddie's too drunk to hear how his voice cracks. _

_ "Wan' you." Eddie nestles his face in the back of Richie's shirt and tightens his arms around his waist. It's entirely too damn hot in this apartment. _

_ Richie gently sets the glass down on the counter, turning in Eddie's arms and just barely missing Eddie planting a kiss to his lips. A kiss Richie has thought about more than he's thought about kissing anyone, and Richie's heart breaks a little at the fact that it's the Smirnoff talking. _

_ Richie puts his hands on Eddie's shoulders to steady him, and Eddie sways a little in his grasp. _

_ "Richieeeeeeee." Eddie all but moans an octave too loudly and Richie tries to soothe him as quietly and platonically as possible. _

_ It means nothing. _

_ "Eddie, listen to me. You're drunk. This isn't real." Richie says, still soft but firmer than before. _

_ "Don't you think I'm pretty?" Eddie noses along Richie's jaw and pushes his thigh between Richie's legs. _

_ Richie has always thought Eddie was pretty, but now is not the time to act on that. _

_ "'Course I think you're pretty, Eds. But, we can't do this." Richie firmly puts his hands back on Eddie's shoulders and holds him at arms' length. Eddie's shoulders slump and he looks like he's going to curl in on himself.  _

_ "Richie don' want me." Tears are welling up in the corner's of Eddie's eyes. _

_ "Eddie, I never said that, but you're drunk. It's not right of me to be with you like this." Or want this, really. No matter how often he's thought about it, moaning into his own fist with a hand shoved down his briefs in the middle of the night. _

_ Eddie's crying at this point, and all Richie can do is brush the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. Eddie shakes his head, denying either how drunk he is or how he wants Richie. Richie isn't sure which. _

_ "Eddie, baby. Look at me, please?” Richie's lips are just barely brushing Eddie's forehead. Eddie finally looks up. _

_ "There's my brave boy. Listen to me, okay? If you wake up tomorrow morning, and you still want any of this with me, I'll give you anything you want, sweetheart." _

Tomorrow morning came, and so did 730 more "tomorrow morning's" since then, and Eddie was too mortified to ever bring it up. Richie assumed he had just been too drunk to remember. 

It means something.


	2. Chapter 2

Richie's starting to believe it was all an elaborate fever dream fueled by repressed emotions for his best friend and a few too many drinks.

He feels guilty about it. Convincing himself that it's all just a self-indulgent ruse, having had far too many dreams of Eddie since. Dreams he feels selfish for having. Dreams where he has one arm gently bracketed across Eddie's perfect hips while the other hand busies itself with the hem of Eddie's skirt. Dreams where blunt fingernails painted blue tangle into the roots of his hair and pull until he sees white around the edges of his vision. Dreams where when he looks up at Eddie, his pretty pink mouth is parted and his eyes are screwed shut.

Dreams one should not have about their best friend, but he can't seem to stop.

Richie shows up to Stan and Eddie's apartment on a particularly windy day in the Spring where pollen is flying like snow, and absolutely sneezing his head off. Eddie hasn't earned the nickname "Doctor K" for nothing, so he all but shoves Richie into Eddie's bathroom for the comically large Costco bottle of Benadryl in the medicine cabinet.

Let the record show that Richie does not mean to find it, when his eyes fall to a small black tube with a gold band that's strategically placed behind boxes of Mucinex and Naproxen. Eddie's medicine cabinet may be alphabetized, but this tube does not belong here.

Richie knows what it is. He shouldn't bother it, he knows, but he can't stop his own shaking hands before they're pulling the cap off and twisting the lipstick out of the tube. It's an obviously used deep pink- "Mauve", apparently, according to the tiny label on the bottom- and thinking about Eddie carefully lining his lips late at night when Stan's out and he's home alone is making it hard for Richie to breathe.

He thinks, very briefly, that maybe it doesn't belong to Eddie. That maybe Eddie had a lady over, and she left it behind. Of course, that doesn't explain why it's been deliberately hidden. But, it's possible, and it keeps Richie from popping a boner like a twelve year-old in his friend's bathroom.

Then, wedged behind the Benadryl and the Chloraseptic, Richie finds the long purple tube of mascara, and this is very obviously not a guest's belongings left behind.

Richie hastily throws back a Benadryl, realizing how long he must have been in the bathroom just to retrieve allergy medicine, and makes his way back to the living room. Stan and Eddie have occupied themselves with Luigi's Mansion, and don't even acknowledge him when he comes back into the room.

"Took you long enough, dickwad." Eddie grumbles, purposefully loud enough for Richie to hear.

Something about seeing Eddie now, knowing he didn't imagine the night he hasn't been able to stop thinking about for the last two years, forces Richie's stomach to twist. He feels like Eddie's hiding from him, and yeah, maybe Eddie feels more comfortable that way, but it still makes Richie feel a type of guilt that just leaves him sad. He wants Eddie to be happy. Comfortable. Safe. Things his childhood never afforded him. More than anything, he wants Eddie to have those things with him.

Richie wants to make a joke, because that's how Richie copes, but he can't find it in himself to do so.

***

Two weeks pass without Richie spending any time with the Losers. It's midterm season, so at least he has an alibi. Albeit a shitty one. When Ben goes back to Derry for the weekend, Richie moves his moping to the couch. Richie might be obnoxious, but he throws his pity-parties in private, thank you very much.

_Spaghetti: pizza and movie night?_

Richie shouldn't be surprised by the text message. He hasn't really been avoiding Eddie. Richie responds to his texts, he just always says that he's too busy.

**don't think I'm very good company tonight. still bummed they took Coraline off of Netflix.**

Okay, so maybe he's avoiding Eddie.

_Spaghetti: i'm downstairs don't be fucking rude_

Before Richie can respond, he can hear Eddie buzzing from downstairs.

"Hey, if you think I won't eat this entire mushroom pineapple pizza by myself waiting on you, you're grossly mistaken." Eddie's voice is metallic, crackling through the speaker, but Richie still feels his heart thumping.

He looks around the living room frantically, finding a hoodie thrown over the kitchen counter because Ben isn't here to tell him that his laundry goes in the laundry basket. He buzzes Eddie up.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Pineapple on pizza is a sin." Richie says in lieu of a hello when he opens the door. Eddie easily pushes past him, holding a large pizza box and a smaller one on top.

"And I think that mushrooms belong on a cheesesteak but you don't hear me cracking your nuts, do you?" Eddie drops the boxes on the coffee table unceremoniously, then looks around the living room.

Richie is definitely not the tidier one between himself and Ben, and the living room is proof.

"What the hell, Rich, have you just been throwing your garbage directly into the floor?" Eddie asks, hands perched on his hips, cocked to the side. The "garbage" in question is really a Redbull can that's fallen off the coffee table and an empty bag of Dorito's that he had for dinner last night, but far be it from Richie to correct him.

"You got me. I've gone full Oscar The Grouch and I'm just living in my own filth while Ben's gone." Richie flops back into the couch.

Eddie picks up the trash by his feet and Richie tries not to sigh at the visual of Eddie crouching in front of him. He walks it into the kitchen, wiping his hands together after he throws it in the garbage.

"Come on, I even got you some of that artery-clogging cheesy bread that you love so much." Eddie says, wagging the smaller box in Richie's face.

Richie gives what he hopes is a kind smile.

"Seriously, what's up with you? Feels like it's been years since you've made a joke about fucking my mother." Eddie asks, falling back into a spot on the couch next to Richie and throwing open the pizza box. Sure enough, half-mushroom and half-pineapple for two halves of a whole idiot.

"Sonia's worn me out, Eds, what do you want from me?" Richie should probably stop making jokes about sleeping with a woman he very much despises while coming to terms with being very much gay for his best friend, but here we are.

Eddie must notice that all of the humor in Richie's voice is gone, because he closes the pizza box and pushes it away on the coffee table.

"Rich, talk to me, hm?"

Richie shrugs, "There's nothing to talk about."

There's a lot to talk about.

"I've known you forever, Richie. You always have something to talk about."

Richie mutes the _Chopped_ episode he's not watching, and turns his body to face Eddie.

"You... you know that you can tell me anything right?" This is not how Richie wanted to have this conversation.

"Last I checked." Eddie shrugs.

"I just want you to know that. That I wouldn't-" Richie starts to say _'love you any less'_ , instead, he says "think less of you." That's somehow worse.

"What's up with you, Richie? Spit it out, already."

_I went through your medicine cabinet. Sort of. You know how I went in for Benadryl? I might have found the makeup you're hiding. I wish you were comfortable enough to share this with me._

"Hello? Earth to Trashmouth?" Eddie shoves one of Richie's shoulders with his hand.

"I found your stuff in the cabinet..." Richie's voice is barely a whisper, and if it wasn't for the absolutely heartbroken look on Eddie's face, he wouldn't have thought he heard him.

"You... you what?" Eddie's voice is just as soft.

"I swear, Eddie, I wasn't looking for it. I swear on all that is holy, I was just looking for Benadryl. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Eddie."

Eddie isn't really looking at him. More like he's looking past Richie's shoulder for a portal to a different dimension and out of this moment. Richie doesn't know if it's better or worse that Eddie doesn't deny that the makeup is his.

"Wait. You... do you think this is about you?" Eddie asks, realizing what Richie is apologizing for and finally turning in his own spot on the couch to mimic Richie's pose to face him.

"I don't think it's about me, Eddie. I just want..." Richie stops, because as many times as he's thought about this moment, he's never gotten this far. He doesn't know what to say without sounding like a selfish asshole. So? He says as such.

"Listen, I know this is going to make me sound like a top-tier, self-indulgent douchebag, but maybe I do. Maybe I just wanted you to be comfortable enough, comfortable with me. Enough. To give you this." Richie takes too long pauses between his words, but they're said.

Eddie's hands are fidgeting, like he's a kid who got caught drawing on the walls. He's not angry like Richie half-expects him to be, and Richie is almost more upset by it. Eddie stands up, looking like he’s on the verge of a panic attack.

“Just don’t- d-don’t tell the others. I’ll go.” Eddie tries to make for the door, but Richie reaches out and catches the slender wrist in his own too-big hand.

“Eddie, wait. I wouldn’t dream of telling the others, okay? I just need you to listen to me right now.” Richie doesn’t want to feel stuck, but he can’t stand the thought of leaving Eddie by himself right now.

“A few years ago, when you borrowed that skirt from Beverly? I've thought about you almost every night since then.” Richie dares to move his hand away from Eddie’s wrist, and they shake when he moves them both to Eddie’s waist.

“You don’t mean that, Richie.” Eddie says, staring a hole into the ground by his feet.

“I do.”

Eddie pushes off Richie’s shoulders, trying to weasel out of his grip. “You never wanted me before that. You never wanted me until you found out that I’m fucking sick in the head.”

“Eddie, baby… don’t talk that way.” Richie’s tall, but he can’t reach Eddie’s face from here so he settles for holding him still by his hips.

“It ain’t right, Rich. That’s why I’ve never told anyone.” Eddie’s in no mood to hold back the tears, so he doesn’t.

“Stop it, Eddie. There’s nothing wrong with you. It never has been.” He’s said these words out loud to himself, but his voice still shakes when he says, “I think I’ve always wanted you.”

Eddie stops struggling in Richie’s grip and relaxes enough that Richie can pull him into his lap.

“It’s alright now. Listen to me, Eddie. I told you before, if you still wanted me when you were sober, I’d give you anything you want. My sweet boy liking to feel pretty doesn’t change that.”

Eddie sits back on Richie’s lap, rubbing his eyes so hard that is lashes clump together from the tears.

“My sweet girl?” Richie tries, and that pretty pink flush Eddie gets to his cheeks is back. “You want to be my sweet girl, Eds?”

“‘m not a girl, Rich. I know that. I just like-“ He hiccups from the crying. “I like to feel pretty. Like to feel- _hiccup_ \- feel like someone you’d love.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, sweetheart?”

“Because it was mortifying. I got black out drunk and then tried to take you to bed. Thanks for, um, not letting me do that by the way.” Eddie takes one of Richie’s hands in both of his and plays with his fingers.

“I hope you don’t think it meant that I don’t want that with you. I’ve spent the last two years trying to come to terms with the fact that-“ Richie cuts himself off, and Eddie looks up at him.

Big brown eyes that he’s known since childhood. _His_ Eddie. He thinks Eddie may have always been his. At least now, he’s sure of it.

“To come to terms with the fact that I do want you. No matter what you want to give me. Whether it’s you in a skirt, or those god awful tiny red shorts.” Richie loves the shorts, he’s just full of shit.

When Eddie brings his hands up and cups Richie’s jaw, pushing his lips against his, Richie is sure he’ll never want for anything else.

Richie’s thought a lot about his first kiss with Eddie, and in every iteration, it’s never been when Eddie’s face is wet with tears from crying into his neck. But, they’ve always been different. He sees no reason why this should be any other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [twitter](http://twitter.com/acheyb0nes) and [tumblr](http://acheybones.tumblr.com) if you're into that


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